Child of Hogwarts: Part I

Chapter Seventeen - Enemies of the Heir, Beware

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Enemies of the Heir, Beware

The first month of term seemed to fly by for Harry. Soon September had ended, and October blew in with hurricane winds and driving rain that never seemed to let up. The chilly change in weather brought on a school-wide spate of colds and flu, and both Madam Pomfrey and the Heads of House were kept busy with the constant trickling in of ill students and staff to be tended. Harry had been lucky in avoiding the germs thus far, though he privately thought any of the Gryffindor team would be fortunate to miss pneumonia, the way Wood was working them out in the gale five days a week. Hermione had taught him a warming charm for his clothes that helped with the worst of the chill, but he still left the pitch shivering and drenched by the end of practice. Remembering the Slytherins on their perfect new Nimbus 2001s, however, he soldiered on determinedly.

After nearly two weeks of this routine, Professor McGonagall – who Harry noticed had been watching him nervously like he was a timed bomb over the past few days – finally put her foot down. Harry knew she wanted to beat Slytherin as badly as, or perhaps more so than, any of her players. So he was surprised to see her standing in the entrance hall as they made their way wearily in from the pitch late on Saturday afternoon, drenched through to the skin and dripping heavily. McGonagall had her hands on her hips and regarded them all with a stern expression.

'My classroom – all of you,' she said curtly. They sighed, but followed her the short way to the ground floor Transfiguration classroom, filing in as she held open the door. She wheeled to face them.

'You'll catch your death in that gale,' she said to them harshly.

'But professor!' Oliver cut in immediately, looking dumbstruck. 'We've got to train! We might face Slytherin in weather like this... and we have to win!'

'I am not saying you can't, Wood,' Professor McGonagall said, the corner of her mouth twitching. 'But none of you will be much use to Gryffindor if you come down with flu. I insist that you all take a measure of Pepper-Up, just to be safe.'

She waved her wand in a circle, and seven smoking goblets appeared on the desk before her. 'Drink up.'

They all grumbled, but took the goblets resignedly. Harry, who had never had Pepper-Up before, was pleasantly surprised to find the potion was not nearly as disagreeable as most of the other draughts he'd been forced to take since his arrival at the castle this summer. The brew was hot and a bit spicy as it went down his throat, but the heaviness the rain had left in his head instantly cleared, and he felt as though he'd been warmed from the inside out. Looking around, he saw many of his teammates with expressions of chagrin, steam pouring heavily from their ears. McGonagall nodded, satisfied.

'Thank you. Now, up to the Tower, and into some dry clothes for goodness sake,' she said, shooing them toward the door. Harry made to follow, but McGonagall placed a hand on his arm. 'Not you, Potter – I want a quick word.'

The others looked curiously at Harry, but left him in their Head of House's company. When the door had closed behind Alicia Spinnet, Professor McGonagall spun to face him.

'Are you sure you're feeling well, Harry?' she said, looking a bit anxious. She brushed back his fringe and put a hand on his forehead. Harry was confused.

'Yes, of course, Professor. I'm fine,' he said.

McGonagall withdrew her hand, looking satisfied. 'You don't feel feverish,' she said. 'But I worry about you out there in that weather so frequently, especially after your illness this summer.'